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Sat Nov 1st, 2014
 | 09:26 am - Elegant confusion, NAm version: do the ginko leaves fall, or is it yellow snow?
Blearily noted another grey greasy wet day out the fogged up windows as I got my breakfast ready. Sat down at computer, called up Environment Canada's wp (I can call spirits pixels from the vasty deep), see current weather is 'light snow' WHAT??? Look more closely out window. Snow flurries indeed. Oh I am so not ready for boots, especially this week when my right knee has decided to yell about the damp.
Nothing but Rutledges this month and not that many of them, given the mindless exercise that reading mysteries is:
A Long Shadow
The Confession
A Lonely Death
Search the Dark
Watchers of Time
A Pale Horse
Proof of Guilt
Hunting Shadows
But October was a brainless month, all URI and tiredness and ache, not in any way conducive to ambition. For some reason I don't surfeit on Rutledge the way I do on most British inspectors. (Now that someone has usefully informed me that the Inspector Morse rubric is 'the love interest is either the murderer or the next victim' I can toss my Inspector Morse omnibus with relief.)
Did read one Zen Cho story, in an anthology, which was as good as one expects bravecows afrai to be; did reread some Thich Nhat Hanh to counteract illness-induced depression. Am on the second-to-last Rutledge, in which two people are being more stupid than I think I can stand. Also they (the authors) commit one of those 'my kingdom for a literate copy editor' errors: ex-patriot to mean someone living abroad, not someone who was once gung-ho 'my country right or wrong' and has since thought better of it.
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![[User Picture]](https://l-userpic.livejournal.com/11690011/1379663) | | From: |  mvrdrk |
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| Date: | November 1st, 2014 05:30 pm (UTC) |
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The idea of ginko leaves falling like snow sounds wonderful! Good luck wth the boots and the knee! The virtue of ginkoes, by me, is that they don't fall but hold tenaciously to their branches well into winter; or do in Tokyo. It's the mountain ashes and their feathery fronds that fall in golden drifts and make the roads magic. |
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